#for the record jack's shirt is very annoying to make i mean wow

[subwaysurf45]

Tech problems (bucky x reader)

Summary: bucky doesn’t know how to work the TV, his new phone, anything. After getting made fun if he wants to quit but the reader helps him out.

Pairing: bucky barns x reader

Warning: mentions of death near the end, but it’s mostly fluff

Masterlist!

Bucky stood at the counter in the kitchen, full weight leaning on the concrete slab that most people ate off of. His eyebrows were basically touching as he fiddled with his phone that Tony just gave him, he just couldn’t figure it out for the life of him.

“Hey, old guy!” Tony walked in, “whatcha doing?” He walked over and peered over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Trying to…” his brain wasn’t focused on completing the sentence, more on creating an e-mail.

“I see,” Tony snatched the phone from Bucky’s hands and turned his back to him, Bucky tried to see what he was doing but Tony kept walking around. A little bit of anger grew inside him because Tony seemed just fine at working with tech- everyone did.

Steve had walked in, “Tony, what are you doing?” His voice was tired and annoyed, he already knew what was happening simply from the way Bucky looked longingly at Steve. “Tony-“

“Ah-ta-ta, let me help him.” Tony smirked, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “I’m doing it all for him, aaaand- done!” He turned and slapped the phone in the table, it looked like everyone else’s.

“What did you do to it?” Bucky asked, his anger coming through in his tone.

“Nothing, tin man- old man- silver hair, just nothing.” He seemed like he was telling the truth, “i just did it so you wouldn’t keep annoying me and asking so many god damn questions, jeez.” Tony scoffed and walked away, Bucky didn’t pick up the phone, rather stare at it.

“How stupid am I?” Bucky asked, “really, like you got this figured out in less than a week, Tony told me when I asked for the Bluetooth password.”

“Wifi.” Steve corrected.

“What?” Bucky looked over, “same thing, who cares…” Bucky waved him off, his head snapped up at Steve suppressing a laugh, his stomach sank, “what?” His voice light and almost a whisper.

“It’s not the same thing, very much not the same thing.” He laughed, Bucky sighed, he’d had enough of this. Bucky picked up the phone and walked down the hall, “oh, come on! I’m having fun with you!” Steve laughed.

~~~

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, training with Nat had just ended and you were heading back to your shared room with Bucky. As you walked past the kitchen you saw Steve looking at nothing, he hand kept his head up.

“Why the long face?” You panted, still needing to catch your breath.

“I made fun of Bucky, he’s mad now.” His mouth barley moved, the sentence was muffled.

“About what?” You asked softly but you were still mad, he made fun of your boyfriend.

“Him not knowing how to use tech,” Steve looked up and saw your jaw drop, “what?”

“Literally last night he was so upset because he called me when I was training and he used the emergency signal, so I came running to our room and he had no idea.” You looked towards the bedrooms, “he was so upset with himself that he made me scared, he was all in his head. I need to go check up on him,” you sighed and turned to go to your room; that hot shower had to wait.

Once you made it to your room you softly knocked on the door, “Bucky?” You called, when you heard a hum you opened the door a jar, seeing him slumped over with his phone in his hands. “Hey, babe.” He seemed to break out of his thoughts when you placed a hand on his back.

“Hi, doll face.” He tried to smile, “how’s training?” He looked over to you as you sat beside him.

“Very long and very tiring,” you chuckled, you knew if you asked how he was doing he might get mad or breakdown, “Steve told me what happened, he seemed sad when I was in the kitchen.” Your hand started to rub his upper back, making sure you didn’t hit any scars through the shirt. “You wanna talk about it?” His phone was still on the home page, all the apps were downloaded but you knew he didn’t do that himself.

“I don’t know anything,” he sighed, “i don’t know how to work my phone, the microwave, the TV…I don’t know how to use the system thing in here properly, I can barley understand cars these days, that’s why I use the motorcycle because they didn’t change much but-… y/n, everyone thinks it so funny, the old guy who doesn’t know jack shit about tech.” He slumped forward.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” you moved up to the back of his neck, knowing he likes when you get under into his scalp.

“You’re different.” He stated.

“How so?”

“Because you’ve never been mean to anyone, you’re this shining star, you’re a light and you’re never mean.” His eyes left his phone and he looked at your leg, not wanting to make eye contact after saying that.

Your heart melted, his lips turned up at the quickly kiss to his cheek. He looked over and kissed you back, your hands wrapped around his neck and his pulled your waist in. After pulling away your foreheads rested on one another’s.

“Let me teach you, yeah?” You whispered, “no jokes. No funny business. As long as you need, I’ll go through it all.” You leaned back and waiting for his response.

“I don’t wanna make you go through-“

“Nope. Final rule, no self-doubt.” You smiled, his lip pouted out and he tried to cover his face and blush.

“Okay,” he nodded, “teach me.”

“Not right now,” you laughed, Bucky quirked a brow, “I’m tired and sweaty and I feel gross, also, I would like some cuddles.” You stood and grabbed your towel and a change of comfy clothes, “tomorrow.”

~~~

It was the next day, Bucky sat on the bed as you walked around the TV in your shared room, deep down he wanted to take some notes but he knew if anyone found them, he’d never hear the end of it.

“So let’s start basic,” you stood in front of the blank TV, “let’s say you’ve lost he remote, this is how you control it. Right here,” you pointed to the circle with a line through the top symbol, “that is the universal signal for on and off, look for that. Then, once you’ve pressed it here is the little notches for the volume and then the channel notches.” You pointed as you went along the bottom of the screen.

“Sounds easy,” Bucky muttered more to himself.

“But we have a remote, here, same little symbol, on and off. There, that’s the volume, and the big circle can help navigate up and down, side to side.” You showed him up close, “lots of these buttons will never be used, so I won’t really go through them.” You waved it off. “Okay, test number one, turn of the tv.” You passed the remote.

“Okay…” bucky clicked the button with the symbol he now knew and the screen lit up, some random cartoon played, “yes!” He shit up and jumped, quickly catching himself he sat back down.

“Can you change the channel for me?” You asked, a smirk on your face from his reaction before, he clicked the channel button and it went to the news. “And turn it up, please.”

“Easy,” he smiled and clicked, no sound came out. “What?” He clicked again and the sound came back, but not louder.

“You hit the mute button, use the long button here,” you pointed, he clicked up and it went up one level, after catching on and holding it the volume kept going up, “Bucky-“ you tried to warn but the volume cut out completely.

“Shit.” He stood up, Bucky fiddled with the notches on the actual TV but nothing happened. “What did I do?” His face i genuine terror, “did I break it, oh god, Tony’s gonna get some mad.”

“You blew out the speakers,” after observing the smoke coming out from the side of the TV that was the only possible answer.

“I knew i’d mess it up, I get so cocky, I really thought I had it.” He paced around, tugging his hair.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be fine,” you calmed him and sat him in the bed, “it’s hard at first but it will only get easier.” You smiled before pulling him into a hug, you could feel his sigh of defeat as he hugged back.

You both headed out to the kitchen, Bucky still in a mood from breaking the TV a couple minutes ago. You both had some coffee, yours with a little milk.

“Hello, lovebirds.” Tony walked in, Bucky looked right at his feet and tried not to look awkward. “What’s up with cyborg over here?” Tony giggled.

“Nothing,” you dipped your coffee, Bucky just nodded along.

“I got a notification that the speakers in your room were blown out,” Tony teased, Bucky stiffened and inches closer to you, “what happened?”

Bucky looked up, his mouth open and about to talk. You gently placed a hand on his chest and looked him in the eye, a way of saying ‘I got this’.

“I sat in the remote, turns out my ass poked it right at the volume and I couldn’t figure it out in time.” You laughed, Bucky looked at you crazy before forcing one out.

Tony hunched over, “I can picture that, oh wow- I wish I was there!” He cackled before turning away and walking down the hall, “it’ll be fixed by tomorrow!” He called over his shoulder.

~~~

It was lonely without you, it was very rare you’d go in missions without Bucky but also rare you’d go alone. It was a simple infiltrate, you were more on the espionage rather than Captain America side of powers. 

Bucky had tired to talk to Steve about letting someone go with you, this mission would involve zero contact with the base. But no one listened, it was always going to be you.

It had been a month, three quarters done with the they needed. The tech lesions had to be halted, you weren’t there to teach and Bucky refused to let anyone tell him anything about the tech in his room.

“If only you could see me, babe…” he whispered as he worked the TV, that was the only thing he knew, and he was great at it. Last week he recorded a show, he was never going to watch it, but it as recorded. He almost had a heart attack when the remote stopped working, but it just ran out of batteries.

After doing all the cool tricks he knew he looked over to your side of the bed, it was neatly made and seemed untouched. Whenever you’d be fine for even a night he’d sleep on the ground, but he promised he’d sleep on the bed, but he never rolled over or even sat on your side.

The one thing he missed was the way your shampoo stunk up the whole bed in a good way, when he’d wake up the morning after you’d showered he’d could smell your lavender shampoo right away, it almost puts him back to sleep. But as the days went on, it faded.

Bucky looked around before gently placing his face your pillow, almost like an afterthought of your sent came through; just barley there. His face hovered before he gave in and relaxed on it, he knew if he’d roll around the sent would fade quicker, he didn’t really care.

There was a hard spot on your pillow, he reached under and found a green spiral notebook. It didn’t have anything in the cover, once he opened it a gasp fell from his lips.

It was a notebook, for every piece of tech in the house. From his phone to how F.R.I.D.A.Y. works, it was all there. Intricate diagrams that where labeled, one page had everything he needed to know.

Bucky’s phone sat face down in his bedside table, he flipped the that page and looked it over. He picked up his phone and read through it all, slightly muttering then words that were written to himself like he was being taught.

“Okay, you got this,” he said as he pressed the on button, as he navigated around he learned how to add a contact, send and text, google, the a picture, send an email. Everything.

~~~

You walked into the compound completely exhausted, one black eye layer, the base had been infiltrated. You went to your mission report computer and Tony was there, he gave you your phone.

“Connect back to the wifi,” he nodded before leaving you to connect.

Once you were fully back online your phone began to buzz, over and over. Tons of notifications rolled in. You went to emails first.

From: bucky

To: y/n

Subject: test?

Hellooooooo this is a test, don’t worry about it!

You laughed and scrolled through the other emails, finding out they were all kind of the same, then you went to text messages.

There was a selfie of him holding the green book, his smile couldn’t have been wider. He sent three, probably by accident. But they were still cute.

So I figured hit text!

Kinda cool

I found the book, it was like Christmas

Anyway, I know you won’t read this but I think I’ll try the oven next, I’ll ask wanda about it.

As the texts went on, your heart started to drop and your stomach swirled. They had been getting progressively sadder.

Hey doll face, I hope you’re well, miss you

I miss you

I love you

I wanna marry you one day, maybe live on farm and have a few kids

If you want

Sent: two months ago

I finished your book, I think I know it all now, I’ve been going over those tests you put in the back sleeve, they’re really good

You’re very thoughtful

I know you can’t see this

I don’t know what to do with myself, this is very hard.

Sent: one month ago

Are you dead?

I had a dream you died in my arms, and I can’t tell if it was a flashback or a dream

I hope you’re not

I love you too much

Please come home

Please

I really need you

I wish I never learn how to use this shit, honestly, I can’t seem to put my phone down because this is all I have if you right now. I keep checking it to see if you’ve responded but I know you haven’t, but part of me wants you to respond so I know you’re alive.

I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.

Sent: 24 hours ago

You slammed the phone down and raced down the hall, you passed the kitchen and everyone who smiled at you because they hadn’t seen you in three months, they probably also thought you were dead.

You stopped right before the door, you could hear soft whimpers coming from inside.

“I miss you,” the voice was muffled.

You opened the door silently, you saw Bucky lying right next to your side of the bed, it was still perfectly made. You also saw what looked like glass shattered by the wall, a closer look and it was his phone.

“Bucky?” You asked.

His head shot up and he sat up straight, after wiping his face he ran right over to you. His hug pushed you back on the floor, he just stayed there.

“Don’t ever do that again, please.” His voice was still shaken, “I can’t go through that again.”

“Never again, i was so worried when I saw your text a minuet ago.” You whispered and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Your name in my phone, your the only one.” He sniffled, “it was like it was taunting me, I got really mad and I threw it.” He hugged you tighter, “you were supposed to come home two days ago.” He cried.

“I know,” you housed him and sat up, as he pulled away he saw your bruised face, his thumb gently traced the purple mark.

“I don’t want a phone, I like knowing about it, but I’ll only ever borrow yours.” He seemed like he was pledging something, like an oath.

“Done deal,” you pulled him in for a long kiss, hoping it would never end.

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barns #comfort #marvel #bucky oneshot #bucky barns fluff #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Meeting Jack; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

Hello all! First of all I would like to apologize to those who have sent me anon requests. I have been in SUCH  a writer’s stump that I couldn’t figure out what to do. And school starts for me in 2 days and I’m afraid I may not be able to get to those requests again till either spring break if not by the end of this semester. Again I am so sorry but I hope this makes up for my lack of updates.

Now this chapter of my Rock Angel series doesn’t really include the boys as the other parts have (sorry *dodges TVs and drum sets being flown at me*) but I PROMISE this is an important story arc for you readers as the Rock Angel. I’ve also included a face cast for this person you will read about and yes I used the same name as it is in the TV show, but I will let you all read about it and you can comment and like to your hearts desire. I promise the next part I write will include the boys more. 

Warnings: Usual swearing, some derogation insults, pictures W/O consent (ALWAYS ASK BEFORE YOU TAKE SOMEONES PICTURE. DON’T JUST TAKE IT without their permission. It’s a total DICK move.), some fluff.

Taglist *open*:

@isabella-bby

@onebigfangirlworld

@phantom-fangirl-stuff

@dj-lowkey

@mr-badguymercury

@labessieisallama

@starswin

@naturalswifty89

_______________________________________________________

*May 11th, 1983*

After recording my 5th album I decided that I needed a break. Some time to myself and hope and pray I can manage to sneak away from the annoying paparazzi that are always stalking me in the day.  So at around 11pm, I headed to a club that was in downtown London that I knew where the paps never really go to.  Plus I needed a distraction since my boys were on their Japan tour and I was missing them.

I got dressed in a normal pair of jeans, simple black high heeled combat boots, a white Aladdin Sane t-shirt and a jean overcoat. I took my motorbike instead of calling my driver Louis as to not bring about attention.

Once I got to the club, I parked my bike aside and placed my helmet under the seat trunk and headed into the club.  With my shades over my eyes I walked towards the club so that I could escape the silence of the streets.

I entered inside and the club was still pretty crowded, the current song that was playing over the speakers was Deacy’s song “Another one bites the dust”.  People were dancing close to each other, grinding their bodies together and just getting hammered.  I walked up to the bar and I told the bartender.

“Just get me a cold beer please.” He nodded and handed me a tall bottle of beer.  I uncapped it and took a swig of it as I observed the crowd.  As a musician and as Queen’s personal ‘eyes of young audience’, I wanted to see what really got the people moving.  Of course Roger and Brian say that most of the music is either disco or the rising “Pop”, which really isn’t Queen.

After only having one beer and staying at the club for about another hour, I let out a soft yawn and looked down at my watch to see that it was 12;45am, so I decided that it was time to head back home and get some rest since I needed to get ready for a radio interview tomorrow, plus a music video shooting of my song ‘Bridge of Light.’

But as I went outside, I was suddenly bombarded by camera flashes.  However it all came from one camera and I heard a very familiar voice say.

“Come on (y/n) darling give me the dirt. Are you really gonna drive while hammered? Were you here meeting someone? Give me the dirt darling!” Duke Weasleton, my current annoying one man paparazzi stalker. He started stalking me around four months ago, trying to always get the dirt on “the Rock Angel”, just to see what gossip or rumors he can spread about me.

I’ve tried to be nice to him and tell him to go away but he keeps coming back like an annoying mosquito, draining me of my patience.  One time when Deacy, Brian and I were out catching up for lunch, he came in with camera flashes and calling out accusations that I was having an affair with the two of them, asking if they were my “Sugar daddies”.

That just got Deacy and Brian riled up and they almost went to town to beat the shit out of Duke but I told them to not get caught because he could easily ruin all of us if we try to start something, and I didn’t want my boys getting into trouble, so we walked away from the restaurant and I had my bodyguard Big Rob take care of him.

“Duke I really don’t have time for this. I’m exhausted and all I wanted was one night off of no press or annoying paps like you, so please leave me alone.”

“Why? Are you meeting your secret date? What’s his name? Come on Angel give me everything!” He kept taking pictures all the while walking closer and closer to me.  I was now backed up against the building of the club while the flashes of his camera were still going off and him hounding me with accusations and questions. I was almost about to snap when I heard a soft male’s voice say.

“Hello.” The flashes stopped and we both turned around and from the lights above the club plus the streetlights there stood a young man a few years older than me but definitely not in his 30’s, he had short sandy blond hair that slightly combed over his forehead.  He wore a simply white t-shirt, a dark blue jacket and jeans.  “Sorry to interrupt, but the boys sent me here to come pick you up, (y/n).”

Based on his accent, I could tell that he was American with a slight tang in his voice, maybe he was from one of the southern states but I couldn’t tell which one.

“Excuse me, but who are you exactly?” Duke asked as his camera hung over his neck. “And this is a private chat between me and her.”

“Really? Because it didn’t seem private to her. And it also seemed that she didn’t want to talk to you” The boy stated narrowing his brow and seemed to be glaring at Duke.  There was silence in the air as I looked between Duke and this boy. “Listen I’m…..”

“Duke Weasleton. Yeah I heard. But see the way I was raised, in order to get pictures of someone you need to first ask for their consent, not lay in wait before ambushing them with false accusation. But then again your paparazzi so what would you know about that?” Wow, this guy’s hitting all the right places when describing Duke at this point.

Duke grinned icily and said as he walked up to this boy.

“Okay, why don’t you back off kid?”

“No you back off, old man.” The boy stated lowly as he stood his ground and stared Duke down.

It was at that point Duke got a look of shock and humiliation.  For you see, Duke Weasleton is always self-conscious about his age, even though he’s around his late 40’s he looks like he’s in his 50’s if not 60’s.  This guy just did not age well.

I softly coughed out a laugh as I stared at this kid literally giving Duke a sucker punch straight to his ego.

“Old man?” choked out Duke.

“Yeah, that’s right.” The boy said in a light, challenging tone. Duke turned towards me and I hid my smile behind my hand as I cleared my throat.  Duke turned back towards the boy and growled lowly.

“Okay, alright, this isn’t over.” And without another word, Duke walked away and disappeared into the darkness of the London streets.  Once everything had calmed down I walked up towards the boy and I said.

“Wow, so American chivalry isn’t dead.”

“Nope, you just gotta know where to look for it, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thank you, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. I can’t imagine what it’s like for celebrities to get hounded day in and day out when they’re just minding their own business by press or photographers.” He told me.

“Just the price of fame, the one downside unfortunately. Wish it wouldn’t happen but it does.”

“I’m Jack by the way,” the boy now known as Jack extended his hand out to me and as I took it he fully introduced himself. “Jack Kline.” I took his hand and we shook hands as I introduced myself.

“(Y/n). But then again you might know that cause otherwise why would a one man paparazzi hound me like that if I wasn’t famous.” Oh god that sounded so arrogant of me. What the bloody hell (y/n)? “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sound conceded I…..”

“It’s alright, besides I already knew who you were the minute I saw you at the bar.”  Wow, so he knew who I was and yet he didn’t come up to me and hound me for an autograph or ask for a picture or even try to sit by me pretending to be my date (you do not want to even know how many guys have tried to do that to me).

“Well Jack Kline, is there any way I can repay for your chivalrous act?” I asked him.

“Oh no I couldn’t as that of you. All I wanted was to be sure you weren’t being harassed by that guy anymore.”

“Please, I won’t take no for an answer. I must repay you, no one but my boys would’ve done that for me. And I was just about this close from ripping Duke’s head off. Please I know a little coffee shop just a few blocks away.”

“Well, okay. Just one cup of coffee, then I pay for the rest of the drinks we may have.” I smiled then I lead him towards my bike and we both got on it and I drove down to the coffee shop.

We took a booth at the coffee shop, minus about 2 other people, the café was pretty much a graveyard shift.  Jack ordered a plain coffee while I got sweet coffee.

“Now I hope you don’t mind me asking but, just so I can officially confirm this without making assumptions but you’re American right?”

“Yes, I am from a little town called Lebanon, Kansas. It’s definitely a lot smaller than London is.” We both smiled softly and then I continued,

“So what’s a small town boy from Kansas doing here in London of all places?”

“Just thought I might have a bit of fun. Been wanting to see London for some time so I thought, what the hell pick up a passport and spend a summer here and see what the British people are like.”

“Well I can tell you that we’re dull and very boring.” I teased which made him laugh. “The weather is also terrible and some of the food is bland even to me, a born and raised British girl.” We both continued laughing.

“So….what exactly were you doing at the club anyway?” he asked me.

“I just needed a break. I’ve been recording my 5th album for months now, endless TV and radio interviews and a music video shoot. I thought going to a club just to clear my head would be best. Going late at night since press don’t typically stay so late. But Duke is a different case and I guess I should’ve known better. Or had at least called up Big Rob my bodyguard.”

“I can understand why you did. If I were in your shoes I’d probably do the same thing.” He said.  I looked up at him.  

“So Jack, what type of music do you like? Or whose your favorite artist?”

“Will it increase your ego if I said you’re in my top 5 favorite female singers?” he teased with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his light blue/green eyes.

“It just might. Am I number 1?”

“Sorry but you’re close. Joan Jett’s my number one.”

“Understandable, she is pretty cool, never got to meet her yet but I hope to someday. She’s in fact my inspiration.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s showed me that when it comes to women performing, you don’t need to show much skin just to put on a good show. She can dress in such casual punk rock clothes like any other man and still give a good show.”

“True. As for my music choices, I tend to stick with classic rock thanks to my cousin for introducing me ever since I was 5. Other artists I like are Bowie, AC/DC, George Michael, my guilty pleasure is Michael Jackson.”

“Hey, he’s no guilty pleasure. Even I the Rock Angel am a slave when it comes to the King of Pop. He’s actually a real sweet guy too, gave me some good tips when it comes to dancing.” He looked at me in shock at the fact that I actually got to meet Michael Jackson himself.

“You’ve met Michael Jackson?”

“Yeah, three times actually when he came to London to do some recording. In fact he told me to make ‘So good’ my second single, and said that it would be even more popular than ‘Set it all free’. In a way he was right.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.” I shrugged and then I asked him.

“Okay so who would you say your all-time favorite rock band is?”

“Oh Queen hands down. Even though my cousin and I get into disputes about whose better them or AC/DC, I’ll still pick Queen. Their music is just unlike anything I’ve ever heard. And I really love John Deacon’s bass playing, and the songs that he’s made already. I don’t wanna sound too much like a fanboy but—he’s my inspiration for picking up a bass guitar in the first place.”

“Really?” I asked astounded.

“Yeah. After hearing Queen for the first time back in high school with their song Bohemian Rhapsody, it helped me into wanting to study more about music composition and song writing. But it wasn’t until I first heard the bass solo for ‘Liar’ that I picked up my first bass guitar and would practice day and night till I got it right. Now anytime I play that song on my record player, I have to pick it up and play it, imagining that I’m playing alongside my hero.”

And Deacy thinks he’s not the most important person in the band.  He underestimates himself most of the time, and I respect his shyness when it comes to being out in public but he’s written so many great hits for Queen, that he too can inspire people, not just Brian, Roger or Freddie.

“He’d be honored to hear you say that.” I said solemnly.  We stayed at the café and continued to just talk for what felt like hours until I noticed that it was a bit pass 3am and I knew I had to get home and get at least 2hrs of sleep before my radio interview all the way in South London.

“You sure I can’t give you a lift to your flat Jack? It really isn’t safe this late out on the streets.” I asked him as we left the café.

“I’m sure, the cab’s almost here. Plus I’ve already taken too much of your time, you should get some sleep. I bet your today is packed in the next few hours.” I nodded then as the cab drove up to the café I told him.

“Thank you again Jack. For what you did to Duke for me.”

“Again, it’s no trouble at all. You probably would’ve done the same thing if it were me.” He went to open the door and I suddenly blurted out,

“When can I see you again?” He faced me and he said.

“When are you free next?”

“I’m free on Saturday, or I could give you a pass to come see me film my music video later this afternoon?” He smiled and he said.

“I’ve always been interested in how music videos are filmed.” I smiled and said.

“Great! I mean I’ll send my friend’s driver Terry to pick you up tomorrow. Just be sure to be ready by around 12:00, filming will begin at around 1:30 once I’m done with my radio interview.” He nodded and then he got into the taxi and drove off.  I waved bye to him before I got on my bike and drove on home.

The minute I got back home, I immediately collapsed onto my bed and didn’t even bothering to change into pajamas.  I quickly set my alarm clock and then fell right asleep.

The next morning I was at BBC radio station being interviewed by Freddie’s good friend Andres.  He’s probably one of my favorite interviewers because he loves to spice up the talk show and makes asking questions fun.

“So (y/n) dear you’re known as the youngest woman inspiring artist but let’s get a bit personal. Any plans on finding a future man in your life?”

“Oh Andres you cheeky little boy, always wanting to know if I’ve got a man yet. Sorry to say but my answer is still no, I haven’t found Mr. Right just yet.”

“Not according to this morning’s paper, come on darling what’s his name?” I looked at him confused and said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ohh, ohh honey you didn’t know. It’s all over the papers and the tabloids.” He said in pure concern, realizing that I had no idea what he was talking about.  He then handed me a copy of this morning’s gossip tabloid and written in bold caps print was.

SPARK FLY WITH THE ROCK ANGEL:

Super Star (Y/n) (l/n), also known as the Rock Angel been spotted with a mysterious American man. The two were cuddled up at a local café very early this morning at around 2am.

And the heading picture was a picture of me and Jack sitting at our booth through the see-through window of the café.

“Duke.” I sneered under my breath. I took a deep breath and I calmly stated in order to protect Jack’s privacy and not drag him into this insanity. “He’s an old childhood friend of mine that went to America. I hadn’t seen him in so long, so we met at the café just to catch up. Told him all about my rising fame that he’s heard so much about. He says that he’s very proud of me.”

“Ohh well that’s very good. Although if I might say that if he wasn’t your friend, then you two would make such a cute couple. Now then I’m told of rumors of a tour with you and Queen are about to be in order, is that true?”

“You will have to find that out for yourself darling.” I teased as I literally downed my champagne all the while cursing and thinking of ways to torture Duke for this story.

The interview went on for the rest of the morning and then by around 11:45am, it was all done and I had met Louis outside and he drove me to the studio where I would film the Bridge of Light music video. All the while I kept glaring down at the tabloid before slamming it down to the ground and turning towards the window.

“The press is really milking this story out (y/n), you sure inviting him over to your film shoot was a good idea?” I heard Louis asked.

“I don’t know. But Louis you should’ve seen it. He’s the only boy who talked to me like I was just (y/n) (l/n). Not just (y/n) the Rock Angel like most guys who see me do. All those douchebags either use me for a chance to knock me up or get close to the band, but Jack he—we just sat in that café and just talked and talked and talked for hours on end. God I just hope I haven’t screwed up his life now by being associated with me.”

“The price of fame love, but word of the wise; If this Jack boy is as kind as you claim he is, then he won’t let the press or paparazzi get to him.”

“You really think so?” I asked him hopefully.

“I’m sure love, plus this boy has made you more happier than I’ve ever seen you ever since I started working for you.” I smiled softly and thanked him and he continued driving till we reached the studio.

I walked on in and got into hair and makeup department first and as I was now walking to costuming, I had been told that someone was trying to get in claiming that I was allowing them in. Having received a call from Terry while I was in makeup I knew that it was Jack.

I raced up to security to see that my assumption was correct.  I raced up to security and told them that he was allowed and that I gave him my permission to be here.  As I gave him a quick tour of the set and once we reached the costume trailer, I turned to him and said.

“Look Jack about the tabloid picture…..”

“You don’t have to explain anything (y/n). I’ve got a good feeling of who it was that took that picture of us anyway.” Jack interrupted me.

“I promise I will try to get the publisher to take that photo off or at least try to come up with a better story than what I did this morning with Andres…..”

“It’s fine (y/n). Besides if you keep changing your story it’ll end up ripping your reputation apart. And I don’t want that to happen to you. Besides I don’t mind being the old American friend.” I smiled.

God this guy was such an angel.  I mean I knew that Mary, Dominique, Chrissie and Veronica were understanding of their husbands living like this but never would I expect a guy to be understanding when it came to having a female superstar as a friend/partner.

“Jack Kline you are a literal angel. Now why don’t you go over to set and I will meet you there once I’m done getting fitted into my first costume.”

“Alright, can’t wait to see what the director comes up with for this song.”

“Me neither.” I then stepped inside the costume trailer and Susanna was getting me fitted into my first angel costume.

What Director Silvester Favarou had in mind is that I am the angel singing to an unhealthy, suicidal young man.  I am the light that helps guide him when he is un utter darkness.  I’m also the leader of a whole guardian angel choir towards the end and at the very end I end up having to wear these beautiful handcrafted and sewed angel wings that literally stand about 7ft from tip to tip.

The whole day was restless and endless as we did take after take, after take of the music video.  By the time the clock struck 10pm, the video finally wrapped and surprisingly Jack had stayed for the whole thing.

After the filming, I treated Jack to dinner for being such a good sport about staying so long before having Louis take him home.  

Once we arrived at his place, he bid me a goodnight and thanked me for allowing him to see the studio and having a first look at my upcoming music video.  I smiled and told him it was no problem before bidding him a goodnight.

Finally after a seriously long day, I finally reached home sweet home.  I opened my door and let out a yawn ready to hit the sack.

“You’ve got some serious explaining to do young lady.” I froze in shock.  Oh shit it can’t be them.  As I turned around there they all stood at the entry way between my front corridor and the living room.  Each of them with their arms crossed over their chests staring me down.

Looks like my long night is about to get even longer.

#bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody imagines #bohemian rhapsody x reader #freddie mercury #roger taylor #john deacon #brian may #freddie mercury x reader #roger taylor x reader #brian may x reader #john deacon x reader #queen #queen imagine #queen imagines #joe mazzello!john deacon #gwilym lee!brian may #ben hardy!roger x reader #rami malek!freddie mercury #gwilym lee!brian may x reader

[anarchetypalarchive]

in the name of science

aka that trevor/tentacle creature, lowkey trevor/ryan fic i started like half a year ago for...somebody? i forget who, it’s been a while, hello new followers and goodbye new followers i’m sure rating: rockin’ out with their cocks out  content: i mean, it’s tentacle sex. it’s consensual, trevor 100% knows what he’s getting into, but there are tentacles going into places in a sexy manner. also featuring ryan getting off on trevor getting off on getting dicked by tentacles, also ryan being a nerd, also trevor rolling his eyes a lot on ao3 excerpt:

“Trevor?”

He’s not sure how he’d forgotten Ryan was there on the comm, still listening. What are the chances that Ryan hasn’t heard the desperate noises he’s been making?

“You sound, uh. Is everything okay?”

Death. Death should come now.

“Do I sound like I’m in pain to you, Ryan?” Trevor grates out, kicking out slightly when he feels something tugging at his pant leg.

“Well, uh, no. Not exactly. It’s more like—”

“I know what you think it sounds like!” Trevor says, a little shrill.

Trevor really needs to stop volunteering for this supernatural shit. After nearly getting eaten—and not in the fun way—by a wendigo last leek, he should know better.

(It'll be fine, Ryan had said. It's harmless. Mostly harmless. You'll be fine. Afterwards, Ryan had interrupted Trevor's yelling to point out that, hey, he was fine. Totally and completely not eaten alive. What more did he want?)

So, okay, he does know better. And yet here he is, walking into the den of a creature they don't even have a name for yet. Maybe he's gullible, or his sense of self-preservation is totally fucked—possibly literally, if Ryan's notes about the thing are any indication.

(“If I get fucked to death, I'm coming back to haunt your ass,” he tells Ryan before heading into the cavern.

Ryan doesn't look up from his work. “Duly noted.”)

Still, at the end of the day, Ryan and the others want to know how the creature responds to humans when it’s in an “excited state,” whatever the fuck that means. This is educational.

Trevor keeps telling himself that as he delves further into the cave, his way lit by the flashlight gripped tightly in his hand. He’s grateful for the tiny communication device in his ear, the only thing connecting him back to base. They’d tried to get some kind of video recording set up as well, but everything they tried to film showed up as salt-and-pepper static on screen. Ryan had been fascinated.

Trevor’s just annoyed.

He sees a faint glow far ahead of him, knows it’s the creature based on Ryan’s notes, some bioluminescent secretion that comes from blah blah blah, Trevor had stopped paying attention at that point. He’s an engineer, not a biologist.

Which, to be honest, begs the question: Why the fuck is he the one doing this?

And, okay, Trevor knows why. It’s because Ryan’s in charge of taking observational notes for the case, and Jack and Jeremy are working a different case on the East coast, and Gavin’s in England doing who the hell knows what with Dan, and Geoff had laughed incredulously and declared himself “too old for this shit,” and Michael had seemed a little too eager, and—

Well, the options had narrowed down a lot, and Trevor was elbow-deep in a repair when he’d been asked and subsequently muttered, “Yeah, sure,” without really processing, and now here he is.

Sometimes he really regrets joining the Hunters.

Sometimes, meaning like right now, as he enters the main cave and stares up at the creature he’s only heard about until now. It’s...okay, it’s pretty horrifying, if he’s honest.

“Jesus Christ,” he blurts.

“Do you see it?” comes Ryan’s voice in his ear. He sounds way too excited. “What does it look like?”

“It looks like a huge fucking—” Trevor pauses. “Can this thing understand English?”

“I’ve looked at notes from other cases similar to this one, and results were...mostly inconclusive.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning don’t say anything stupid, just in case.”

“Right. I was gonna say, it’s beautiful. Gorgeous. Should be on America’s Next Top Model.”

He’s rewarded with a breathy chuckle, but Trevor’s too busy looking at the monster to really acknowledge it.

It’s huge, is really his first observation, a central mass that’s far bigger than he is, with countless appendages branching off from it, all shapes and sizes. It’s lit up faintly by the bioluminescent slick covering most of the...tentacles, okay, they’re tentacles, it’s a huge tentacle monster, that’s all there is to it, and Trevor had known that walking into this but it’s no less alarming.

The thing doesn’t appear to have eyes, but surely it can sense him. Still, it’s not attacking. That’s reassuring.

“Talk to me,” Ryan says.

Trevor snorts. “Um, it’s...big? Writhing around but not coming near me.”

“Get closer to it.”

“Wow, see, that is literally the last thing I would ever want to do right now. Can’t we just stare at each other awkwardly from a distance?”

“It has eyes?”

Trevor scrunches his nose. “No, not that I can tell, but… I dunno, it feels like it’s watching me.”

“Neat,” Ryan says, enthusiastic.

“You and I have very different ideas about how something can be classified as neat.”

“Trevor.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” Trevor grouses. He takes a deep breath and turns off his flashlight, tucking it into the side pocket of the little backpack he’d brought along. It’s a bit darker without it, but the light coming from the creature is enough to see by, like it’s late dusk and he just has to let his eyes adjust.

He walks forward, step by slow step until he’s too apprehensive to get any closer. By then, the monster has gone mostly still, like it’s regarding him carefully.

Somehow, that’s creepier than when it was writhing around.

“I’m within...fuck, like fifteen feet of it,” Trevor says quietly.

“What’s it doing?” Ryan asks, hushed suddenly.

“Just...looking at me? I mean, it doesn’t have eyes, so I don’t know how else to— Oh, fuck.”

“What?” Ryan says, but Trevor can’t bring himself to respond.

One lone tentacle slowly moves forward, closing the distance between them, and wiggles in front of his face like it’s trying to decide how to continue. Trevor forces himself to remain still.

The tentacle waves in front of him and then seems to caress his face, a slick, slow, muscled slide against his cheek. Trevor jerks back in surprise and backpedals, only to be tripped up by another tentacle, huge and thicker around than his thigh, that knocks him off his feet.

He flinches in preparation of hitting the floor, but a few more tentacles catch him with alarming quickness, wrapping around his midsection and his limbs.

“Shit!”

“Trevor?” For once, Ryan sounds concerned. “Are you okay? What’s happening?”

Trevor struggles to find his voice. “It’s— Touching me—”

Some appendage he can’t see tears his backpack from him and tosses it aside. A terrified, choked sound bubbles up in his throat, and he struggles automatically. In response, it seems, he’s wrenched upwards, suspended in midair with tentacles wrapped around him, and he writhes instinctively, desperately. It doesn’t seem to accomplish much, but he can’t help himself.

“Ryan—!”

“Breathe,” comes Ryan’s low voice, calm, steady.

The tentacles keep him there for a time, stilling almost in response to his panic, like the creature can sense it. Eventually, he manages to breathe slowly, an in-and-out rhythm that seems to help to calm himself, remind himself that he’s there willingly—he knows he’s not in any real danger, despite how foreign everything is. From the information they’ve gathered, the creature has never killed a human. The tentacles are holding him securely, but not squeezing, not moving more than the gentle pulsing they seem to be doing at all times. It’s a weird sensation, but not alarming.

He takes this moment of respite to do his best to describe to Ryan what he’s experiencing: the apparent strength of the creature (strong, if the way it can hold him still and off the ground is any indication), the way the tentacles feel on his skin (most of them are thick, a bit of give to them, and they’re slick, leaving a faint, bright trail of their secretions along his skin and clothes), the way it’s reacting to him (curiously, it seems, or at least not with hostility).

Then, all at once, the creature really comes to life.

The ends of the tentacles glide along his body like they’re exploring it, and Trevor twitches, squirms, equal parts ticklish and surprised. A couple delve under his shirt at the neck and sleeves, then seem to give up at the confining space. For a moment, Trevor relaxes, but then a particularly thick tentacle slides underneath the hem of his shirt only to tear the garment up the middle and rip it from his body.

Trevor yelps, struggling automatically.

“Trevor?” Ryan calls out, sounding worried. “Do you need me to send someone to get you out of there?”

“Nope!” The word comes out on a near-hysterical burst of laughter. The thought of someone seeing him like this is— No. Not happening. Death would be kinder. “No, no, I’m fine, it’s not hurting me.”

“What is it doing?”

Well, what the hell can Trevor say to that? Caressing my naked chest with its creepy, glowing tentacles, nbd, average Tuesday night for me. “You know what, don’t worry about it.”

One tentacle goes travelling up from his bellybutton to one of his nipples, and he jolts, back arching involuntarily. For a moment, the tentacle goes still, then flicks against his nipple again like it’s curious, like this is an experiment for the creature as much as it’s an experiment for Trevor and the others.

There’s a certain amount of intelligence to this thing that Ryan’s probably going to find fascinating but Trevor’s just finding deeply uncomfortable in the moment, especially since it won’t stop fucking touching him.

For a minute or two, the tentacles seem content only to hold him still and play with his chest, thinner appendages coming from who the hell knows where to flick and tug and pinch at his nipples. Trevor does his best not to react, to clench his jaw and hold still, but it only seems to make the creature more determined. Despite his best efforts, it’s not long before he’s writhing, breaths coming in short and hitched as he forces himself to stifle the little noises threatening to leave him and, well, he’s always known he’s had sensitive nipples; that’s often a fun, useful thing in bed, but right now Trevor’s bemoaning it.

Literally.

One thicker tentacle wraps around his chest over his nipples and pulses strongly, the sensation almost like a rhythmic sucking, and a choked moan breaks free from his throat. He arches, hips rocking, very painfully aware that his cock is stirring in his jeans.

“Trevor?”

He’s not sure how he’d forgotten Ryan was there on the comm, still listening. What are the chances that Ryan hasn’t heard the desperate noises he’s been making?

“You sound, uh. Is everything okay?”

Death. Death should come now.

“Do I sound like I’m in pain to you, Ryan?” Trevor grates out, kicking out slightly when he feels something tugging at his pant leg.

“Well, uh, no. Not exactly. It’s more like—”

“I know what you think it sounds like!” Trevor says, a little shrill.

“Right.” Ryan coughs. When he speaks again, he sounds a little more professional. “Can you give me a rundown on its reactions, its mannerisms?”

“I’m not narrating this!”

“We really need to figure out a way to get a video feed to work down there,” Ryan says thoughtfully.

“No, we don’t!” A tentacle delves underneath the hem of his right pant leg and starts winding its way up at the same time another works its way past his waistband. “Fuck. Yeah, no, we really don’t, definitely unnecessary, goddamn it.”

“What’s it doing?” Even now, Ryan can’t seem to hide his curiosity and excitement.

“Stop talking,” Trevor pleads. “Seriously, I don’t need you and your—science boner right now.”

“Science boner,” Ryan echoes.

“Shut up.”

“It’s just, it’s interesting how the only word you could come up with is ‘boner,’ considering—”

“How much do I have to pay you to stop talking.” He breaks off when he hears an ominous ripping sound, and looks down in despair. “Oh, come on!”

“What?”

“It tore my fucking pants! I paid like eighty dollars for these jeans.”

“Who the hell pays eighty dollars for jeans?”

“Bold words coming from Dad Jeans McMike.”

“They’re not dad jeans,” Ryan argues, sounding petulant.

“Whatever happened to those jeans Gavin made you buy?” It’s really, really weird to be having a totally normal conversation in these circumstances, but Trevor will take any kind of distraction he can get.

“They’re uncomfortable,” Ryan mutters. “I don’t like them.”

“You just have to get used to them,” Trevor reasons. “Seriously, it’ll be worth it; they make your ass look great.”

“What?”

Fortunately—or unfortunately—Trevor is spared from having to come up with an explanation for that, thoughts derailed when a slick tentacle of mid-thickness finds its way into his boxers and slides against his dick.

He jerks, a strangled gasp escaping him.

“Trevor?”

“If you’re about to ask me to explain in detail what’s happening, I’m gonna take a rock from this cave and use it to smash every single one of your computers.”

Ryan pauses. “Actually, now that you mention it, bringing a sample back—”

“Shut up,” Trevor snaps, but the heat of his words is lost when the tentacle wraps rather decisively around his cock. He swears, pulling futilely against the ones holding his arms still. He’s even more aware of the pulsing action of the tentacles like this, definitely a foreign sensation around his dick, but it’s not—it’s not bad, is the thing.

Ryan sounds mildly petulant. “Well, I expect a report, then, at least, when you’re—uh, finished?” Trevor lets out another moan and Ryan quiets himself almost abruptly.

Results of the creature understanding English still seem to be inconclusive, because when Trevor firmly tells the thing not to rip his boxers, it seems to pause for a moment, then tear them from waistband to hem in one sharp pull, which means it either doesn’t understand a word Trevor’s saying or it’s an ornery fucking asshole.

At that point, well, Trevor’s not going to be standing—or suspended—there totally naked with his too-trendy-for-this-situation sneakers still on (he’s in the clutches of a supernatural creature that seems hellbent on getting him off, sure, but Trevor’s got standards), so he kicks off his shoes all on his own.

With better access to him, the tentacle at his waist takes the opportunity to further its exploration, which comes in the form of stroking and pulsing and writhing around his cock with differing patterns until—until, god, Trevor’s completely hard and flushed clear down to his shoulders and gasping for breath, struggling as much as he can against the tentacles holding him.

Except now it’s not with the instinct to get away—it’s with the pure, desperate desire to end the torture and get a hand around himself so he can come.

Maybe the creature can sense his need, or maybe it’s just coincidence, but either way the tentacle around his cock starts working at him in earnest, each movement sending little choked moans tumbling from his mouth, like it’s finally figured out exactly what gets him going and now it’s using that knowledge to execute the best kind of torture upon him.

He’s right on the edge but can’t quite get there, and he can feel hot, frustrated tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, please—” He breaks off with a gasp, shivering, and lets his head fall back, resigning himself to what’s happening—to the fact that he’s at the complete mercy of this creature.

“Trevor,” says Ryan again, except this time it sounds less like a concerned question and more like a reverent sigh.

And Trevor—god, he should be mortified, should be begging Ryan to turn off the communication signal and leave him to this humiliation, but somehow Ryan’s voice just serves to finally, finally push him over the edge.

He comes over his stomach with a sharp, shaky cry that verges on a sob, his back arching as his hips jerk forward. The climax is wrung out of him, the tentacle not stopping for a second as it milks him dry. Eventually, he’s writhing for a different reason, eyes screwed shut, overstimulated and struggling against the appendages holding him.

It doesn’t let up for a few moments, seconds that stretch thin and near-painful. When it does, the tentacle around his cock pulling away, he goes limp in the monster’s hold, letting the tentacles take his weight. Moaning faintly, his eyes flutter open.

For a time, he’s only aware of his own panting breaths, and the ringing in his ears, and the gentle pulsing of the tentacles still touching his skin.

For a time, he doesn’t quite recognize what the faint, short, staticy noises coming from his earpiece are.

Then his eyes widen.

“Ryan?” he says tentatively, because it—

It definitely sounds like Ryan’s getting off.

The noises stop abruptly.

“Shit,” Ryan breathes, voice embarrassed and tight and guilty, like he’s a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Shit, I’m sorry, I wasn’t—”

Trevor has to scramble (metaphorically, of course, because fuck knows the tentacles haven’t let go of him yet, and that’s a little concerning, a little thrilling) to calm him down.

“Whoa, hey, relax, it’s fine.”

“It’s fine?” Ryan repeats, the response punctuated with a hysterical little laugh. “It’s— It’s a Human Resources sexual harassment lawsuit, is what it is—”

“We don’t have a Human Resources department, Ryan—”

“Either way—”

“I’m telling you it’s okay,” Trevor snaps, a little exasperated. “What, do you need me to say in detail that I’m okay with you jerking off to me getting fucked by a weird tentacle creature? Because I—” He cuts himself off when the poorly-muffled sound of Ryan moaning reaches his ears. “Oh.”

“Shut up,” Ryan says, and for once it’s Ryan who’s embarrassed and not the other way around, isn’t that nice.

And, honestly, Trevor has a lot to say about that, but the second he opens his mouth, the words he’d planned to say come out as a half-yelp, half garbled noise, because one tentacle pushes between his parted lips and two others wrench his thighs apart, exposing him completely.

He hears Ryan’s concerned question only vaguely, too preoccupied with not choking on the appendage in his mouth, but that’s not enough to distract him from the thinner tentacle winding up between his legs and ignoring his dick entirely in favor of sliding back to brush against his hole.

Trevor jerks, stiffens, and the monster seems to respond in kind; it shivers and then stills, holding him and drawing out the tentacle in his mouth but not acting any further.

“Fuck,” he manages, struggling to catch his breath.

“Are you okay?” comes Ryan’s voice, like he’s been saying it a few times. Trevor sucks in a slow, deep breath and shuts his eyes.

And he nods.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, I’m okay, I just—needed a second.”

And like that, the creature comes alive again. The tentacle prods at his mouth again and he allows it in, allows it to thrust shallowly in as he squirms, another making its way down from his shoulders to his lower back.

He knows what’s coming, but it doesn’t stop him from jolting when the thin tentacle starts to enter him. Trevor’s been fucked before, has experimented with all manner of toys, but this is—god, it’s something totally new, something that gives a little to his tight walls but doesn’t hesitate to push as soon as he’s adjusted.

So it’s careful, more of a gentle exploration than a rough intrusion, but the moment it seems to sense that he’s getting used to it, the tentacle twists inside him and forces a desperate cry out of him before starting to thrust, relentless and so deep it makes him twitch.

He doesn’t even realize he’s making gasping, desperate, punched-out noises until Ryan murmurs his name.

And the thing is— Ryan sounds wrecked, breath coming in short and strained. Trevor opens his mouth to say it’s fine, I’m fine, but what ends up coming out is a broken moan accompanied by a full-bodied shudder.

He goes lax, gives into the hold the creature has on him, and if he were a person more inclined towards a sense of self-preservation, maybe he’d be afraid.

As it is, he just rocks back against the appendage thrusting into him, his cock beginning to harden again despite all odds.

“Trevor,” comes Ryan’s voice again in his ear, but this time he sounds worried.

Trevor sucks in a shaky breath and makes a point to actually respond, the tentacle in his mouth pulling away to allow him to do so (and so maybe it is more sentient than they’d thought?).

“I’m okay,” he gasps out, arching sharply when the tentacle inside him drags over his prostate. “It’s not—hurting me—”

“It’s getting you off again,” Ryan breathes out, quiet and awed, and even with the overstimulation and chaos Trevor can think enough to hope Ryan’s got a hand around his cock.

And, Christ, speaking of which—a tentacle about the same size as the one inside him wraps around his dick and starts to work him over again. He cries out, jolting, the sensation just at the confusing edge of too much

“Tell me if you need a rescue team,” Ryan says, but again the words seem to be coming out breathless.

Trevor lets out a hysterical laugh. “I don’t,” he manages between desperate little choked sounds. “I just— Fuck, just—tell me what you’re doing. Tell me you’re not just sitting there and taking fucking—fucking notes about this.”

Ryan laughs. It’s a sweet noise, despite everything. “I,” he starts. Pauses. Trevor can hear the wet click of his throat as he swallows, tries to focus on that instead of how hard his dick is or how close he is to coming again or the rough, rhythmic thrusts the creature is keeping up.

Ryan inhales shakily.

“I’m. I’ve got my fly open, and I— God. I’m getting off, Trevor, Jesus, is that what you want to hear?”

Trevor laughs again, gasping and so, so close. “Yeah,” he says, eyes fluttering shut. “Kinda.” Every thrust into him makes him jolt, and he feels so full, it’s almost unbearable.

Ryan lets out this long, shuddery sigh. “I’m getting off,” he repeats, “and I’m—gonna come,” and that comes out on a desperate little whine.

And, “Yeah,” Trevor gasps out again, and his body’s tense and arched, every muscle tight. “Fuck, me too, me too, me—”

And he does.

He comes with his eyes screwed shut so tight he sees stars, hips jerking, any semblance of coherent speech leaving him entirely in favor of desperate, sobbing little cries. It’s so good.

It lasts too long, or not nearly long enough, but either way he goes totally limp, only vaguely aware of the tentacle inside him carefully sliding out, and the others slowly lowering him down. His ears are ringing, and when the high-pitched whine fades out, he hears Ryan gasping for breath, like—

Like he just came, too.

Trevor fully comes to on the cold rock floor of the cave. It’s not the greatest post-coital awakening he’s experienced, but he’s content regardless, the cool of the granite calming the heat of his skin.

Groaning quietly, he rubs his eyes, then stares up at the bioluminescent ceiling above him, shining like it’s full of stars.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, sitting up. He winces, sore, sweat and fucking—monster slick cooling on his skin.

“Trevor?”

“If you ask me if I’m alright,” Trevor says, struggling to his feet, “I’m gonna break your kneecaps and then stand there while you roll around in pain and ask you if you’re okay.”

There’s a pause, and then Ryan says, “Okay, but—”

“I’m fine,” Trevor says, exasperated. The creature appears to have reverted back to its docile state—whatever the hell that means. “I’m fine, but I’m leaving.” He doesn’t have it in him to stick around long enough to find out what, if anything, happens next.

“Wait,” Ryan says.

Trevor huffs, slowly gathering what remains of his clothing from the cave, trying not to get too close to the still, glowing mass of the creature lest he agitate it. “What?”

“Samples,” Ryan says promptly, like he didn’t just come to the sounds and mental images of Trevor getting fucked mere minutes ago. Professional as always. Asshole. Trevor’s definitely gonna ask him out for coffee when he gets back, but still. Asshole.

Trevor looks down at himself, arms full of clothing dirty from laying on the cave floor, skin sticky with unknown fluids from the creature, and—

“You know,” he says, “I think I’ve got more than enough for you already.”

#anarchetypal writes #no clue about ship names but i asked around and survey says #treyan #ragehappy #this is hastily-finished and unedited but it is DONE #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[ficdirectory]

The Fosters: Our Thoughts on Episode 4x17 “Diamond in the Rough”

Time for another twin recap of The Fosters!  As usual, look for @tarajean621‘s insight specific to brain injury in italics below:

Why Are You Still Detectiving?  Seriously, Callie.  Listen to Daphne and stop it.  You don’t need to be out getting rando signatures because you think Troy is a liar.  Leave your Justice for Jack shirts at home and leave the detectiving to the professionals.

Excuse Me For Thinking My Boyfriend Would Want to Help/I’m Sure He Does But That Doesn’t Mean Getting His Ass Arrested:  Tell her, Daphne.  Callie’s entitlement is super annoying.

They’re Not Scared of Me Yet.  They Stupid:  Right, you are, Daphne.  And I love seeing you on the other side, leading the GU girls!  How exciting!  I’m so proud of you!

Where’s the Picture/Nope.  No Picture This Time.  What’s It Say?  I have soooooo many feelings about this scene.  It is obvious to me that Lena has been tipped off about Jesus’s reading difficulties.  For the record, this is a really crappy way to confirm said difficulties.  I would even go so far as to say that it’s cruel.  Forcing Jesus to do something he is not physically able to do?  Actively humiliating him, when a one-on-one conversation would accomplish the same thing?  I expect far more of Lena, who has a background in child psychology and education.  

Also, just the way she is speaking to him - terse and not at all warm.  The whole situation is super disheartening.

I Have a Headache, Mama/No, You Don’t, Jesus.  You Can’t Read It, Can You?  This is a huge issue for the disabled community.  Nondisabled people presuming to know a disabled person’s body and experience better than the person actually inhabiting said body, having said experience.  Nondisabled people dismissing our legitimate symptoms because they seem like an excuse or come at an inopportune time.

For the record, headaches are common post-brain injury.  (I would say that it was more surprising if I DIDN’T have a headache in the months after my injury.)  They are also a common symptom of visual disturbances post-brain injury like those Jesus is experiencing.  

Lena is not in Jesus’s body.  She cannot feel what he is feeling.  Therefore, it is ludicrous for her to dismiss his legitimate pain out of hand.  And to follow it up with, “You can’t read it, can you?” She could have phrased that question a million different ways that were more sensitive to his self-esteem.  Because these “little” comments and dismissals?  They chip away pieces of us.

Why Can’t Anyone Fix Me?  This line hit me right in the heart.  I’ve been there.  It is a legitimate question, especially in light of all the focus on what he cannot do or needs to improve on in therapy.  I hope Jesus begins to realize that some of his abilities will come back with time.  And some never will.  And that is okay, despite what he is constantly being told about “getting better.”  His abilities do not define him.  He is different now, and that is okay too.

The Girl’s Name is Diamond.  She’s the Victim, Not the Perp.  A Lot of These Kids Come Out of the Foster System.  They’re Starved for a Sense of Family.  Some Love: Hope Olaide Wilson is clearly talented.  They cast her really well.  

Who’s Russell?  Sure He’s Not Your Pimp?  He Didn’t Brand You?  Okay, wow, Stef.

There’s Nothing Wrong With Jesus’s Eyes.  It’s His Brain That Can’t Read.  The Doctor Gave Him These Glasses to Help His Brain Sort Things Out:  Prism glasses are a thing.  But wow, way to out Jesus’s medical info to the sibs.  For a show usually so focused on Moms respecting each kids’ private information, this was disappointing.  (Assuming, of course, that Jesus did not give off-screen permission for her to share.)

Also, just the language used in this scene is so negative.  “Wrong,” “can’t read.”  How about “Jesus’s eyes are fine.  His brain is still sorting things out, and the glasses should help with that.”

You Look Like a Minion/They’re Giving Me a Headache:  Making fun of adaptive equipment is never cool.  We would never consider making fun of someone’s wheelchair - glasses are no different.  

Yes, Brandon is Jesus’s brother.  Yes, brothers poke fun.  This instance is different because Jesus needs the glasses to (hopefully eventually) alleviate symptoms such as headaches, aching eyes, motion sickness, visual overload, difficulty with depth perception, visual attention, visual scanning and visual memory.  By insulting Jesus’s appearance, Brandon is implying that Jesus’s adaptive equipment is unsightly.  And it suggests that a nondisabled person’s comfort is of utmost importance, superseding even a disabled person’s medical necessity.

This is not even to begin to speak about the issues around identity and brain injury.  Brain injuries are complex because, while they impact our abilities, they also impact how we think.  And how we think is very closely linked to who we are.  Often, post-brain injury, we do not “feel like ourselves.”  This can be very frightening, because if I don’t feel like “me,” then who am I?  I may not like the way I’m acting or the loss of my abilities or myself.  So, then why would anyone I love continue to love me?  Comments like Brandon’s, small as they may seem, really drive Jesus’s self-esteem down even further.

Really, Brandon?/Minions Are CUTE/And You’re a Jerk:  Nice half-hearted reprimand, Lena.  

Is He Getting Worse?  I Noticed That His Speech is All Messed Up Again:  Mariana, seriously?  This is awful.  If you’re wondering about Jesus, you know who you can talk to?  Jesus.  Not Mama.  And you don’t have to make comments about how ‘messed up’ his speech is.  This just makes me think of all the other times Mariana has come to Moms regarding something about Jesus.  The first thing they did, always?  Was to call Jesus into the room to talk to him, too.  Now?  Instead of going to him and including him in the conversation, or telling Mariana you’ll discuss it later when Jesus is up (and if he wants to talk about it) you’re having this whole conversation behind his back.  To quote Ellen DeGeneres: “No, I say to that!  No!”

Also, Jesus’s speech is “messed up” because the stress of admitting he could not read was ridiculously high.  It’s called aphasia, Mariana.  Look it up.

Hey Can I Get the Letter I Wrote to Your Brother?  Don’t Want Anyone Else to Find It:  Again, Emma.  This would be something to ask Jesus.  (But we know by now that Jesus has been sent from the room to lie down, and it’s the perfect time for Lena to keep talking about his medical issues behind Jesus’s back...) <--- Sarcasm

Not cool, Emma.

That’s the Thing With TBI, It’s Two Steps Forward, One Step Back.  The Doctor Isn’t Worried About It.  The Only Worry is How it Will Affect Jesus’s Morale:  This makes me think that at least part of this conversation with Jesus’s doctor was held without him being present.  And how about not discussing Jesus’s medical stuff in front of his brother and sister without him there?  If you think he does not want to talk about it, don’t talk about it...especially with the siblings...come on Lena.  With Stef, I understand, as you’re his parents and that conversation would be held in private.  But as it stands now, it’s just you guys, talking about him behind his back.

Also, I take issue with the whole nebulous idea of “two steps forward, one step back.”  Again, it takes legitimate issues that brain injury survivors deal with, and shoves them off to the side.  

Okay So Maybe Comparing Him to a Cartoon Character Isn’t Very Helpful/Sorry:  Mariana got an apology from Brandon, but Lena wouldn’t even call Brandon out for that in front of Jesus, so Jesus thinks it’s okay for the sibs to make fun of his adaptive equipment.  Okay, then...

Yes, Mariana got an apology from Brandon.  You know who didn’t?  Jesus.  The person Brandon actually insulted.

Kids Without Permission Slips, How Many Were There?  Uh-oh, Lena.  And what’s Drew (new acting vice principal) doing looking for kids randomly commenting about LGBT sex ed class.

Monte Still Has the Option Not to Pick Up My Contract, and Drew is Gunning for My Job:  Ahhh, this is so terrible!  Lena, you need your job!

Whether I’m on Leave or Not, I’m in Charge of Accreditation, Drew Knows That:  Ooh, something feels shady.  Why is Drew leaving Lena off the accreditation meeting related emails?

I Think You Look Cute in Your Glasses.  Like Clark Kent/You Mean Urkel?  Mariana, you’re trying to boost Jesus’s morale.  Too bad it’s coming directly after Brandon’s assy comment.

We see Jesus’s self-perception here. :(

You’re Gonna Get Better/You Know, the More People Say That, the Less I Believe It?  The problem with comments like this is, what if he does not have a miraculous recovery?  Most brain injury survivors have long-lasting symptoms.  By constantly “encouraging” Jesus in this way, his family is likely amping up his anxiety.  Because what happens if he does not fulfill his family’s expectations?

Are You Drawing Again?  Can I See?/No:  I love that Jesus’s drawing is still a thing!  I’m excited.  I want to see it, too.  But Jesus said no, so we should respect that, right Mariana?  Right???

That right-sided tremor must be improving, looking at this drawing.  

We Used to Always Want a Magic Treehouse of Our Own/I Wish That We Had One.  I’d Go Back in Time Before Any of This Happened:  This is a common feeling - wanting to go back to Before.  I hope Jesus can begin to reconcile that he is in the After now, and that he can build a life here.

You Know Who Isn’t Alright?  Jesus.  He Needs a Project.  Something to Look Forward To.  And I Have an Idea:  Of course, you do, Mariana.

Jesus Has Been Watching This Show About Treehouses and He’s Been Designing His Own Sketches and They’re Really Good.  See?  What if We Asked Gabe to Help Him Build One:  I’m so on board with you through this point, Mariana.  As Moms would need to know.  And assuming you spoke to Jesus about this since you have his sketchbook.  (But of course, we’re not privy to that conversation.  Only the ones where Jesus is talked about.)

What If This Was Jesus’s Senior Project?  On the one hand, I like this because it shows that Mariana has confidence in Jesus’s ability and his future, but it’s a lot to be planning and I do wonder if Mariana talked to him about this aspect before pitching it to Moms..

Why is Jesus not included his own potential senior project idea?  This is getting old, family.  Just saying.

I Don’t Think It’s a Bad Idea.  It Could Help Jesus Get Out of His Depression.  It Could Help His Brain Make Connections and the Design Is Pretty Cool:  Because you’re Lena and everything has to be about rehab.  It’s never okay for Jesus to be legitimately struggling...

AJ, You Are the Priority Here:  I’m glad AJ and Mike finally talked about why Mike asked AJ if he was okay with Mike adopting him.  And I have to say, regardless of what Mike says, it’s gonna be hard for AJ to accept that Mike really wants him, and doesn’t just want Ana to be able to move in...

What’s Wrong With My Shirt?  It’s Got a Bunch of Tiny, Little Foxes on It.  See?  Hahaha, Brandon.  Seriously, though.  The problem is not your shirt.  The problem is that you need to stop digging through Jesus’s stuff when Jesus isn’t there.  I seem to remember you being pretty darn upset when AJ was taking your stuff without asking...  (See the beginning of season 3.)

For Your Sake, I Hope That He Never Finds Out That You Knew All Along:  Oh, Jesus will find out, Mariana.  Not just about Brandon knowing, but about basically everyone in the family lying to him.  And it’s not gonna feel good...

I Can’t Do This Anymore.  I Want Out of This, But If I Try to Leave, He’ll Kill Me:  Oh, Diamond :(  I hate that you’re so hurt.  And so stuck in a horrifying situation.

Don’t Worry.  It’s Saturday.  No One’s Here/Good ‘Cause I Look Like a Dork:  There is nothing more scary than returning to school changed.  :(

Think of Your Glasses and Your Helmet as a Fashion Statement.  You’re Basically a Hipster Without Even Trying: Nice thought, Mariana.  This still feels condescending, though.

Why Are You Wearing Your Glasses?/I Just Felt Like It: I do appreciate glasses-wearing solidarity.

You Guys Are Winning the Meeting Today?/You Mean the Meet?  Yeah, We’re Up By a Couple Points:  In a situation with high stress, Jesus’s speech is more affected.  (He says “meeting” instead of “meet” because he is thinking about the meeting with Drew.)  I appreciated the awkwardness of this encounter, but also that the kids were so excited to see Jesus. :)

Is This a Treehouse?/Yes.  I Want to Build It:  This whole meeting was infuriating.  Drew seemed ready to take the drawing from Mariana.  (She passed it to Jesus to hand to Drew instead.)  Drew looks to Mariana first before the presentation begins.  (A small thing, until you’ve been the disabled person in a scenario where the person you’re interacting with continually looks to the person with you instead of you.)  Drew makes a clear snap judgment in these first few seconds with Jesus, and it’s very disappointing.  (That aphasia impacts his intellect, specifically.)  The kids in the hall interacted with Jesus better than Drew did.  

I’m proud of Jesus for persevering through such a difficult speech situation.  It’s good to get used to how something like that feels and realizing that you can get through it.  

We’re Asking You to Resign:  Oh wow, that was a twist.  Poor Monte, though!  She was just trying to protect the school by requiring permission slips and it looks like it came back to bite her :(

Get Washed Up for Dinner.  Maybe Come and Help Us:  Hahaha!  As Tara just said, “Stef, your Teri’s showing.”

I’ve Been Saving the Money I Get for Fostering You.  I Was Gonna Give It to You Anyway.  Now I Can Use It For This.  If You Want:  I’m so glad Mike’s been thinking of a way that AJ can stay with Ty and also stay close.  Flip flopping Ana and Isabella and him and Ty into that extra one-bedroom is a stellar idea and AJ seemed so happy.  I have to add Tara’s comment, too, where she said that she’s really glad AJ didn’t thank Mike here.  You could see he was grateful, but the money was meant to be used on him anyway.  He does look so happy and settled, and relieved, and that’s great.

You’re Really Lucky Stef Got You Into GU/Yeah, I Know:  Wow, Callie.  Push Diamond to be a little more grateful...not.

I Spoke to Drew and He’s Not Going to Approve Jesus’s Senior Project:  Of course he’s not...also, Lena, why are you having this conversation with Mariana and not with...I don’t know...Jesus?

Also, is a phone call to Mama the usual way to unapprove a senior project?  Jesus did come in to present to Drew - the least Drew could do is extend the same courtesy by actually calling Jesus.

He Loved the Idea But He’s Not Convinced Jesus Will Be a Senior Next Year or Even If He’ll Be Back at Anchor Beach at All.  He Thinks We Might Have to Send Him to a Special School:  Okay, but really?  First of all, apparently, because ABCC is a private school, Drew can get away with the egregious ableism and overt discrimination of dismissing Jesus’s senior project idea on a one-time meeting (ahem, snap judgement.)  Also who exactly does Drew think he is to be telling Lena that Jesus might have to go to a ‘special school?’  That’s as bad as Dr. Danville saying that Jesus wouldn’t need a wheelchair based on Jesus lying in bed for two minutes.

Also, Lena?  Why didn’t you fight for your kid?  The idea that Drew could dismiss a project idea that he loved based on discriminatory ideas is just a bunch of malarkey and Lena should have been the one to point out that Drew is not in the position to judge what Jesus will or won’t be able to accomplish academically based on one meeting.

He’s Getting Better, Isn’t He?/He Is But With TBI There Can Be Setbacks.  He Can’t Read Right Now and He’s Missing A Lot of School:  Wow, Lena.  Seriously.  I get that you’ve got to be realistic about this but it just feels like one more betrayal of Jesus that you’re just lying down and not even speaking up on his behalf about this.  I get that you might not be able to make headway but it sounds like you didn’t even try at all.  Like you believe what Drew does, which is pretty devastating.

You Can’t Tell Him This Right Now.  It’s Gonna Crush Him Even More/I Know:  Great.  I’m so glad Mariana and Lena are continuing the theme of these episodes which seems to be: Leave Jesus Out of Absolutely Every Pertinent Conversation and Lie to Him All the Time.

You Know What You Gotta Do.  You Gotta Bring Me One of Those Girls:  Nooo, Diamond.  This is so terrible.  :(

Drew Approved Your Senior Project/No Way.  Really?/Kind Of...He Said It Needs to Be Both of Our Project Because It’s So Expensive:  Okay, so Mariana is telling Jesus it is both of their senior projects.  HIS drawing.  HIS vision.  HIS work.  But he will not even get a GRADE for it?  And Mariana will?  Oh yeah, this will end well. <--- sarcasm

What’s That?/A Magic Treehouse Book.  I Found It In the Attic/Will You Read It to Me?  Why can’t everything in this episode be just like this?  I absolutely adore these twin moments and the respect present here.

Everything Okay at GU?/Thanks for Getting Me in There.  I Know I’m Really Lucky:  Diamond makes sure to say this right in front of Callie so she knows that Diamond has taken Callie’s word (and all her gross forced gratitude) to heart.

I Could Hook You Up with a Music Producer:  Diamond, I realize you feel like you have to do this but you don’t.  Cristina, run away!  She doesn’t know a music producer!

I Could Have Been Any One of Those Girls, If You Hadn’t Rescued Me and Jude:  I relate so much to Callie feeling so indebted to Stef and Lena...

I Know I Said No More Secrets, But I’m Keeping One From My Brother. Don’t Know What to Do:  Here’s an idea.  Maybe stop lying to his face :(

We’re Sorry The Number You Are Trying to Reach Is No Longer in Service:  Oh no!  Gabe, where are you?

There Wasn’t a Complaint About the Sex Ed Class.  Drew Told.  Guess Who They’re Making Interim Principal?  Oh fantastic :/

Do You Like Her?/Yeah, I Like Her.  It’s Easy With Her.  I Love You, Callie, But Everything With You is So Damn Hard.  It Shouldn’t Be This Hard:  I feel like the end of this episode came so fast.  It still feels so abrupt (and convenient) that AJ breaks up with Callie.  Because based on this preview, with her going with Aaron to meet his family, I don’t think that would have been as workable if she and AJ were still together.

For more: Fosters Recaps

#the fosters freeform #jesus and mariana #jesus adams foster #brain injury #tbi #aphasia #ableism #4x17 #diamond in the rough